ReWriting History
by Russa Maria
Summary: Harry Potter is dealing with stress and sudden burts of anger, Hermione is freaking out over elves and Ron.. Is being Ron. With Umbridge terrorising the school, Ministry of Magic trying to ignore the fact that the Dark Lord is back, and three students that Harry never met appearing on the scene, can the Golden Trio survive their Fifth Year and Hogwarts? Fifth Year, slightly AU, OCs


**Okay, I KNOW I should be working on my Death Note story.. But I just felt really inspired. Plus, I can manage both, I think. I have random flashes of inspiration all the time nowadays, but I don't always have the time to write them down.. Oh well, we'll see. I'll try my best.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter (J.K Rowling does). The only things I do own are my OCs.  
**

**Chapter 1: A New Face**

"Uhh.. Mom? It would be nice if you told me where we were going"

The unevenness in her own voice surprised her. Usually she keep her tone empty, expressionless, devoid of all emotion. That way no one would never know what she's thinking. But right now she can't manage that, and it's frightening her.

It's ten o'clock in the evening, give or take. The sky is dark like the deepest ocean - not quite black, not quite blue. Heavy clouds hand all around, their dark shadows abscuring the stars. The moon is a sliver of pale light, almost swallowed by the clouds,but not quite yet. Its light is weak, eerie somewhat. It looks like it's coming from the bottom of a lake.

Three people are standing on a sidewalk in front of a line of old-fashioned multi-storey houses in the suburbian district. There are a few street lights around, but they're hardly ever enough to let them see anything. Not that thre's much to see. The grass underneath their feet is yellow and scarse - it hasn't rained in weeks. The asfalt sidewalk is cracked, and still radiates off the remainder of the day's heat. A thin smell comes off of it as well, a smell of burned rubber and plastic. Not the most pleasant smell ever, though the three people barely notice. The night is filled with the buzz of incects as they fly towards the street lights, hit the glass, and get fried.

The houses themselves are old, dirty buildings in serious need of a make-over. A few of the dust-covered windows were broken, and the paint on the doors was broken and falling off in places. The whole demeanor of the place was unwelcoming, to say the least. Some of the windows, the ones that were not broken, were lit, and through the glass you could see muggle families inside, going on with their daily lives.

Eleanor Greenway has a hand on her daughter's shoulder, clenched so tightly you could count all the bones in her thin fingers. It should hurt, but the girl's brain refuses to register anything - all she can manage to to fiddle with her sleeve absent-mindedly, her eyes focused on her mother's face, ignoring the uneasy feeling that grows in her stomach.

It's the look on the older woman's face that's terrifying the young girl the most. Usually, her mother's face is illuminated by a goofy, whole-hearted smile, like everything in life is a joke and should never be taken seriously. She had always hated that smile, thought it was completely pointless, but.. Now she realised it was better.

_Anything is better than this.._ The teenager thinks, swallowing hard. She observes her mother's face, taking in her lips, thinned out into a fine line, the forrowed-together eyebrows. The woman is thinking hard, and her daughter doesn't like it.

The lanky boy on the other side of the woman seems perfectly fine. He stands perfectly still, deep brown eyes seemingly devoid of life as he twirls a lock of auburn hair with his fingers. He isn't looking at the other two, his gaze locked at the sky above him, seemingly oblivious to the tenshion around him.

The girl pokes her mother softly in the ribs. "Mom?" She asks again, her voice strained. She needs an answer.

This time the woman notices and turns to look at her daughter. "Yes?" She smiles, but it's forced, unnatural.

"What is this place? Why are we here?" The girl blurts out before she can stop herself. After a pause, she adds, matter-of-factly, "And you're not fooling anyone with that face"

Her mother sighs and and her smile drops, her lips slimming back into a line. She closes her eyes in thought again, rubbing her temples with her free hand. "Not here, Ashley" She says, her voice low and hoarse. "We can talk inside"

"In-" The girl, Ashley, starts to say, but she is cut short as she witnesses a house appear out of thin air. The two buildings in front of her move apart, to reveal a third house in the middle, exactly like the ones to its sides. The other houses, as well as the people in them, continue on as they were. The muggles continued on watching TV and playing their muggle games. But the new house was there, it's wooden door and dirty windows were not part of Ashley's imagination.

She opens her mouth to ask, but her mother pushes her forward, casting a worried look to the sides, as if expecting something to come out of the darkness. Within minutes, she had pushed her two younger companions through the mouldy doors of the house, shutting it behind herself.

"Don't go anywhere" The older woman says "And don't touch anything" With that, she crosses the hallway in quick strides, disappearing into the darkness.

The hallway is dimly lit by a candle lamp above the door. It barely gives off enough light to illuminate a square metre, and the shadows that dance on the sides of that perimeter are really unnerving. They seem to be closing in. Hoarse, hushed whispers came from everywhere and nowhere at once, taunting, laughing, but never loud enough to understand what is being said. The walls, or at least what could be seen of them, were old and bleaked with age, as was the old carpeted floor. The whole place smelled like a tomb, like an old basement that was once flooded, and was never visited again. There was a dampness about this place.

The place was sending shivers down Ashley's spine, so she took out her wand, directing it at the face of an unknown enemy, or at least she hoped so. She wasn't allowed to use magic outside Hogwarts, but if she had to..

The boy, Ashley's companion, looks up at that moment, having been staring at the floor for the past five minutes. He observs Ashley silently, his eyes moving from her face to the wand in her outstreched hand. He sighs softly and puts a hand on her wand, pushing it down.

"Don't do that" He says quetly, his voice barely above a whisper. Ashley blinks at him, then nods, putting the wand back into her boot, where she usually keeps it.

At that moment, lights go on in the corridor, and Ashley hisses covering her eyes, blinded by the light. Beside her, the boy stumbles back a bit, and knocks something over, and the sound echoed through the hallway until..

"MUDBLOODS! TRAITORS TO THE BLOOD!" the sound was lost in the loud, high-pitched screams that bounced around the house. Ashley had to cover her ears and clench her teeth to stop herself from screaming, and the boy fell over from just the sheer volume of the scream.

On the other side of the corridor from where the two stood, a full-length portait of a horrifingly ugly old woman hung off the wall, with moth-eaten purple drapes on both sides of it. The woman shown in the painting was dressed in a black dress, had black hair and yellowish skin, and had foam coming out of her mouth from the intensity of her screams, which by this time were impossible to comprehend.

People started appearing from everywhere, rushing around and screaming something, but their voices were drowned in the noise. A full red-haired woman and Ashley's mother, who had also appeared from somewhere, grabbed the drapes and attempted to close them, but succeeded only in making the woman scream louder.

"BASTARDS! MUTANTS! DIRTY, FILTHY LITTLE THINGS! OUT OF MY HOUSE! OUT...!"

A man with messy shoulder-length black hair appeared out of one of the doors, and threw himself at the drapes, forcing them shut as he growled. As soon as the drapes were closed, the woman's screams stopped, and Ashley let go of her ears, half-expecting them to bleed. She stared in front of herself blindly, blinking like an idiot and not saying anything.

Her mother approached her first, while everyone else was busy making sure that the drapes were secure and wouldn't open easily later on.

"Are you alright, Ashley?" The woman asks, worry in her sapphire eyes. She seems much calmer than she was when they were standing outside the house, though her black hair is messy and all over the place from wrestling with the drapes. "Come on, let's go upstairs"

Ashley shakes her head angrily, to stop the ringing in her ears. She felt like her ears were just assaulted by a hoard of rampaging centauri, and she was beginning the develop a headache. Yet the adults seemed fine, just a little rattled. The black-haired girl looked over at her male companion, who was sitting on the floor, holding his head with his hands.

"Michael?" She asks softly, kneeling in front on him. The boy raises his head, brownish eyes questioning. "Are you okay?" He nods, and pushes himself up, dusting off his shirt as he does so. He and Ashley folow the girl's mother quetly.

The house is old-fashioned, unkept, and very, very old. The walls are darkened by age, with paint chpped off in places, revealing murky brick underneath. The carpet, which must have once been very beautiful, is rubbed through and oily. Spiderwebs stretch over every corner, and old paintings in cracked frames hang everywhere.

Ashley turns her head to look at the two adults she saw, the black-haired man and the full woman. The man was now gone, but the woman was walking towards them.

"Eleanor!" The woman called after Ashley's mother, and the black-haired woman stopped and turned around.

"Yes, Molly?" She asked.

The red-haired woman reached them at last, stopped, and smiled from ear to ear. "It's so nice you finally brought your children along!" She cheered. "Though I thought your son was a little taller, the last time I saw him" She gave Michael a worried look. "Thin, too. Don't you feed him?"

Eleanor laughs, and finally she sounds sincere. "He's not my son, Molly" She says softly, before her eyes darken for a moment. "Nathan won't be joining us I'm afraid. He has voiced his view on the matter."

Molly's face becomes worries. "Dear, that is too bad. I've had a fall-out with Percy a while back too. It must be terribly hard on you" She placed a comforting hand on the other woman's shoulder. "I think you should go rest, Eleanor. I'll take care of the kids"

"That's not necessary, I'm fine.." Eleanor started saying.

"Don't be silly, you need your rest. Go now" Molly cut in, and the look on her face was one of a mother scolding a child. She was obviously not going to take no for an answer, so Eleanor smiled weakly and nodded.

"Alright, alright." She turned to Ashley with a stern look. "Behave" She said before she walked off into one of the other rooms.

Ashley grubled something under her breath, and Michael cracked a small smile. The red-haired woman turned to them, smiling. "My name is Molly Weasley, but you can call me Molly"

Ashley muttered in reply as she stared forward, eyes dark. She didn't like strangers, especially _friendly_ strangers. Michael gave her a good nudge in the ribs, and gave her a glare that said: 'Behave'. Just like her mother has done just a few moments ago.

So mustering up all of her wits, Ashley managed to force the corners of her lips upward somewhat, into something that supposedly looked like a smile. "Ashley Greenway" She said, a little louder this time.

Michael rolled his eyes, but didn't say anything to hsi friend. He looked at Mrs Weasley, gave a small bow and said. "Michael Ashford, ma'am" in a quet, even tone that gave away absolutely nothing. Perfectly polite, perfectly even.

Mrs Weasley was thrilled, though. She grabbed the two by their arms and dragged them along, not paying half a mind that Ashley was trying desperately to deatach herself from her. Michael just allowed her to pull him along.

The staircase, located at the end of the corridor, was dirty, old and creaky. The wooden boards are damp and patches of moss show up here and there. The three passed a dusty collection of ugly-looking elf heads, severed and put on decorated marble stands. There was a faint muttering from somewhere within the house. At last, they reach the third floor - another dimply lit corridor with rooms going out every which way. That's where Molly stops.

"This is your floor" Molly says, letting go of the children. Ashley restrains herself from making a nasty remark as she rubs her wrist, mostly because Michael gives her another look. Mrs Weasley doesn't notice. "This floor is for the youngsters. This is Ron and Harry's room, down there is Hermione and Ginny's, and there's Fred and George's.."

_Man, how many children does she have?_ Ashley thought, following Mrs Weasley along the corridor. _And when is she gonna realise I don't care about this? What is this place!?_

Michael just followed along, nodding at irregular intervals to show that he was actually listening, and not staring blankly into space. They reached the end of the hall when Mrs Weasley finally stopped.

"And this," she gestured to the two rooms opposite of each-other. "Are your room. Michael, you're going to be on the right. I'm afraid you're going to be alone in there" The boy nodded, his face remaining completely blank. "And you, Ashley, are on the left. Your things are already there, Eleanor brought them for you" She smiled again. "Do go ahead and change, if you like. Supper will be done soon." And she hurried off downstairs.

Ashley growled. "Are they _ever_ going to tell us why they woke us up in the middle of the night and dragged us here?" She asked angrily, stuffing her hands in the pockets of her shorts.

Michael shrugged, twirling a lock of his hair again. "I don't mind" He said softly. "It's better than my home" Ashley raised an eyebrow at that - How can _anything_ be worse than this place? "Well, okay, maybe not _much _better. But still."

Ashley sighed. "I suppose" She agreed, then looked over to the door to her room, then at her attire. "You think I should change?"

"It's not polite to come to dinner covered in dirt" Was Michael's answer. He then turned around and walked to his room, disappearing through the doorsway.

The raven-haired girl gave another sigh and followed his example - she walked to the door and turned the snake-shaped doorknob. It was a dark room with a very high ceiling - so high in fact that the lighyt given out by the lamp was not enough to reach it, and the walls seemed to disappear into nothingness. There were two beds, both made with green and silver sheets, two bedside tables with lamps decorated with snakes, and one bookcase, empty and dusty. A wardrobe stood in the corner. Bags are stacked one on top of the other next to one of the beds, bags that, according to Mrs Weasley, contained Ashley's clothes, school gear, and books.

A loud 'meaw' attracts Ashley's attention and she looks up - to see a Russian Blue lying on top of the wardrobe, its piercing yellow eyes watching the girl's every move, its tail moving slowly from side to side.

Letting out a frustrated groan, Ashley hops on the bed, bouncing a little. She looks her clothes over, sighing when she realised that Michael was right, as always, - her jeans and boots were covered in mud from when she fell over after her mother Apparated them here. Wherever 'here' was. So she hopped off the bed and dragged the bag with clothes from underneath all her other things.

Ten minutes, and a lot of cursing and thrown things later, and Asley was ready to go to dinner. Well, she was ready to present herself to the people without being yelled at by her mother. Her room, however, looked like a tornado had just passed by. The wardrobe was open and had clothes all over it - on the shelves, on the doors, even on top of it. Three open bags were scattered around the floor, their contents scattered all over the place. The only thing that actually looked tidy was the bookshelf - Ashley had stacked all of her books neatly and by color, and made sure the shelf, and the books, didn't have a speck of dust on them.

Ashley threw a last glance at her room, and rolled her eyes - she was _so_ going to get yelled at by her mother later on.. But for now, she was hungry, and she wanted answers. Cleaning her room could wait.

She knocked on Michael's door, and after a few minutes of shuffling from the inside, the auburn-haired boy appeared in the doorway, wearing a crisp-white shirt and jeans. His room was the complete opposite of Ashley's - all of his things were stacked neatly in order, clothes arranged by colour and purpose, and school things spread out neatly on the unoccupied bed. He even managed to start a dice tower in the corner. Ashley just rolled her eyes at that - Michael with his weird antics.

It seemed the whole population of the suburbian area flooded into the kitchen, and even more weird than that - all of them were _red-heads_. Well, not _all_ of them, but the vast majority. There were just so many of them.. The kitchen itself was a small cave-like room, with hard stone walls and dark ceiling, from which a variety of metal cauldrons and pans hang menacingly. A large rough wooden table stood in the middle, surrounded by a variety of equally rough wooden chairs. A layer of smoke seemed to hang in the air, obscuring the view. Mrs Weasley was busy controlling the boiling of three large cauldrons and the cutting of various vegetables at the same time, while the lanky man with untamed black hair that Ashley saw earlier was talking to a teenage boy with circular glasses and messy black hair, who the girl recognised immediately.

Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived. The one who vanquished the Dark Lord before he was even able to walk. The single most important person in the history of the world, according to what everyone had been saying for the past fifteen years of Ashley's life. That is, until the end of last school year at Hogwarts, when he came out of the TriWizard Tournament holding Cedric Diggory's dead body, claiming to have seen th Dark Lord resurrected. Dumbledore believed him. The Ministry of Magic did not. Since then, every edition of the Daily Prophet said that Harry Potter was a self-centered liar who just wanted attention, and Dumbledore was an old fool who follows the whims of a teenager.

Aside from the Boy-Who-Lived and the black-haired man, the table was occupied by a red-haired man, who looked very much alike Mrs Weasley. He was talking to a younger version of himself, but with long hair and weird earrings - Ashley assumed they were related. Two red-haired boys who looked amazingly alike were messing around with their wands, while a younger red-haired girl was setting out forks and spoons.

Eleanor, who was reading the newest edition of the Daily Prophet, looked up and smiled when she saw Ashley. "There you are!" She exclaimed, putting down the paper and jumping out of her chair. "Took you long enough. Let's hope your room is not a mess this time."

"Fred, George! Use your hands!" Mrs Weasley was yelling at the twin boys, who had used magic to levitate a plastic bowl full of fruit, a bread board and a bread knife into the air, and were making them fly to the table. The bread board got thrown three metres into the air and then landed with a loud 'thump' on the ground. The bread knife almost latched itself into the black-haired man who was talking to Harry - had he not moved his hand, he would have had a knife stuck in it. The fruit bowl made a nice piruette through the kitchen, spreading its contents all over the place. A sliced orange ended up falling all over Michael, sticking in his hair. The boy didn't even flinch, just blinked in confusion before busying himself with picking out the fruit pieces.

"This is it!" Mrs Weasley was furious. "If you can use magic outside of school, doesn't mean you have to point your wands at everything you see!"

"But it's faster this way!" Fred - or at least Ashley _thought_ that one was Fred, she couldn't tell the difference - tried to explain as he dislotched the knife from where it got stuck in the table.

"Would someone tell me what's going on!?" Ashley said, annoyed. Why was everyone acting so damn casual? "What is this place? Who are these people? Why are we here? And where in the name of god are Millie and Nathan?!"

Eleanor sighed. "Fine, fine, darling" She finally said, raising her hands in defeat. "This is Grimmauld Place, also known as the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. You are here because you're old enough to be here, and I need to keep an eye on you amd Michael, in case something happens. You're safe here. These people are my friends, and their families. You've met Molly" Mrs Weasley smiled sweetly. "Arthur, her husband" The middle-aged red-headed man nodded. "Their children: Bill" The man with strange earrings and long hair waved at them. "Fred and George" The twins gave them a smile and said 'hi' simultaneously. "Ron and Ginny" A tall red-head in a brown sweater and the young red-haired girl waved hi. "And that there is Harry Potter, Sirius Black. And the girl with bushy hair is Hermione Granger."

"And Millie?" Ashley asked, ignoring the rest of the people while Michael smiled politely at each of them.

"You sister is too young" Eleanor answered. "She hasn't even gone to Hogwarts yet. I want to keep her out of it for as long as possible. As for your brother.. well, you've heard what he thinks about our alliances. He would hardly want to associate himself with the Order." She sighed, and for a moment she looked so tired, so drained, that Ashley actually wanted to hug and comfort her.

"What is the Order of the Phoenix?" Michael asked.

"It's basically a group of people set on stopping Voldemort" Eleanor said. Seeing the confused look on her daughter's face, she explained. "We believe what Harry said about Voldemort. And if that's true, than the Dark side must be waiting for something, or they would have attacked now. What we do is try to stop them any way we can. But I can't tell you anymore, Molly would kill me." True enough, Mrs Weasley looking rather.. angry. She grabbed her wand so hard it was a wonder how the things didn't snap. Eleanor, noticing that fact, desided to change the topic of the conversation. "It's time to eat!"

**Like it? Leave a comment, please! Also, if you can, comment on my characters (Ashley, Eleanor and Michael are my OCs) and tell me what you think! ^-^**


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